


veil

by freakedelic, renowo



Series: Ra'stim Week 2021 [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Boypussy, Breeding, Derealization, Digital Art, Forced Marriage, M/M, NSFW Art, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Pet Names, Ra'stim Week 2021, Soft Rape (TM), Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/renowo/pseuds/renowo
Summary: Timothy Drake makes a deal.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul
Series: Ra'stim Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161707
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92
Collections: Ra'sTim Week 2021





	veil

**Author's Note:**

> COLLAB!!!  
> art: [renowo](https://twitter.com/sladesdick)  
> fic: [freakedelic](https://twitter.com/raperobin)

Ra’s looks fuzzy through the sheer veil. Maybe it’s Tim’s hazy mind, the fact that he’s using every technique Bruce has ever taught him to pretend that he’s not here. Bruce would be able to remove himself from all of it, but Tim is stuck here, looking at Ra’s. Ra’s raises Tim’s hand. It looks small in his much larger one, too small and pale to be his. 

That’s Ra’s’s fault, too. They’d pumped him full of anesthesia for the surgery. He’d woken up screaming and they’d strapped him down.

Ra’s says something and kisses his hand. Tim tries to pretend that he doesn’t feel the lips on his fingers, old and dry. It’s all meaningless blaring in his ears—the music, Ra’s’s words, the audience behind them.

Tim is glad he can’t see them. Ra’s entwines his fingers in Tim’s and pulls him forwards, Tim’s knuckles scraping against heavy rings. He feels as if he’s floating, something pushing him out of his body. The sheer lace on his legs means that if he turns everyone will see his . . .

His . . .

Tim’s thoughts blur. It’s less than lingerie, something meant to expose him to everyone who came for the wedding. Villains and heroes.

He’d agreed to this. It’s binding in the most important way: in the knowledge of everyone in the community.

He prays Bruce isn’t here.

Ra’s is speaking. Is it English? He can’t even tell. They’re vows, probably. Created with Ra’s’s authority as the Head of the Demon. The only authority he answers to.

Ra’s finishes. He looks at Tim, as if expecting him to say something. Tim doesn’t know how he would make his lips move. Ra’s tilts his head but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t sound angry. 

Does this mean—

  
Ra’s steps behind him, pulling him forward by one hand. His other hand pulls Tim close by his hip, forcing him off balance until he falls into Ra’s’s arms. Tim is dizzy as Ra’s leans in.

He lifts the veil with a dramatic flourish. Tim sees Ra’s’s face in perfect clarity: the dark hair that makes his beard, the lines of age in his face, the glint of light off of his gold earrings, the dark liner around vivid green eyes.

Ra’s kisses him with a feverish intensity. He folds into his embrace, biting at Tim’s lips and tongue, breath hot against his cheeks. Spit drips down Tim’s chin when he’s let go of.

Ra’s’s eyes shine.

Tim is swept off his feet with a yelp. The fabric and lace of his train is caught up in Ra’s’s arms.

“We are in for a long night, my bride.”

Tim’s mouth tastes bitter. He feels utterly small as Ra’s holds him.

_You agreed to this. For your family. For your friends._

Ra’s carries him with weighty strides. Tim is dizzy. His thighs press together and he remembers—

Remembers that what is between his legs is not what _was_ between his legs. There’s something missing, and a new emptiness inside him he doesn’t understand.

Tim tries to sit up, to push himself out of Ra’s’s grip. He can see ninja holding open a door, bowing, Tim pressing his thighs together because he realizes they can _see_ him.

“Shush, darling,” Ra’s murmurs. He steps through the door.

It closes behind them.

Is that the click of the lock? His brain twists around him.

Ra’s lays him down. The bed is soft.

Another kiss.

Tim pushes Ra’s away by the shoulders, pushing himself back against the headboard. The lace of his dress trails around his legs, never enough to cover his body.

Ra’s kneels on the bed, casting Tim in his shadow. “What is it?”

“I . . .” Tim feels stupid. _This is obvious. This is so obvious._ “You’re going to . . .”

_You know this. You’ve known this._

“You agreed to this,” Ra’s reminds him, moving forwards. Like a predator. “I gave you a womb for a reason.”

 _A womb_.

Already violated.

Ra’s is closer now. He pushes up the gauzy lace of Tim’s dress. “It will feel good, I promise.”

His fingers touch something that shouldn’t be there.

Tim chokes.

A finger up against lips he’s never felt before. Ra’s’s calloused thumb presses up.

Tim stutters on a gasp. Every bit of sensation in him is centered in a single point, impossibly sensitive.

“How does that feel?” Ra’s murmurs. He rubs at it and—it shouldn’t be _there_ , Tim’s never felt it before. He didn’t know he could. He bites back a whimper.

Just when Tim thinks he might scream Ra’s’s fingers extend, further against his skin and then . . . and then against skin he didn’t understand. Too-big and . . .

In him.

His legs shudder. Tim tries to move but he falls forwards with another gasp. His hands land on Ra’s’s shoulders.

“Please,” he rasps. “It’s too much.”

“Oh, Beloved.” Ra’s’s other hand pulls Tim’s head closer by his neck. “We will have the most beautiful children.”

_Tim is not ready to be a . . ._

His fingers move. Tim shuts his eyes. This is wrong. This is _not_ his body, but he feels sensation like it is.

They make a wet sound as they move in and out. Something slick against the inside of the thighs.

Of Tim’s thighs.

Tim’s face is pressed into Ra’s’s shoulder, trying to breathe, trying to forget he exists. He realizes Ra’s’s fingers aren’t in him anymore.

The fear grips him from his insides out. Breath is caught in his throat.

Something hot and blunt against the inside of his thigh.

 _Don’t beg_.

Tim shuts his eyes and hopes it helps.

It fumbles around the slit cut into him before finding its place, pressing and pressing.

 _Don’t beg_.

Tim feels wetness against his eyes as he tries to find air in his lungs.

 _Don’t beg_.

It stretches his guts, slipping inside a hole that shouldn’t exist. It burns.

There's more of it. It goes on, and on.

“There we are,” Ra’s coos. "I'm going to give you a child, Beloved, won't that be wonderful? A new life, growing inside you."

His thumb lands on that _place_ again, another foreign sensation, something else that short-circuits his brain into panic.

Tim does not beg, but he does sob into Ra’s’s shoulder as the man starts to move.


End file.
